Nora let out a shaky breath and turned back to me. “You’ll be there?”
I answered without hesitation.
“Every second,” I said.
And as I held her gaze, I knew one thing with absolute, terrifying clarity:
This wasn’t just a mission anymore.
It was personal. And Nora would be in my bed with me. No one was getting near her.
18
Nora
Packing a bag shouldn’t have felt emotional.
It was just clothes, toiletries, my favorite cardigan… nothing I couldn’t live without for a few days.
But standing in my bedroom—the same bedroom where Wolf had kissed me breathless last night, where I’d woken in his arms this morning—I suddenly understood the gravity of what I was doing.
Leaving home meant acknowledging danger.
Acknowledging that someone out there knew my routines, my habits… my vulnerability.
Wolf stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching me in that silent, protective way he had.
“How long will I be staying?” I asked quietly, folding a stack of tops.
“As long as needed,” he said. “Could be a week. Could be more.”
I nodded, biting back the tightness in my throat. “Okay.”
He stepped inside, gently taking the sweater from my hands and placing it in the duffel. “You’re doing the right thing.”
“I know.”
A beat. “It still feels like running.”
“It’s not,” Wolf said. “It’s relocating. Strategic and temporary.”
“You make it sound like a mission.”
“It is,” he said simply. “A protection mission. And you’re the priority.”
My heart stuttered.
His tone wasn’t flirtation. It wasn’t exaggeration.
It was truth.
I zipped the bag, then hesitated. “I should probably bring Muffin’s things.”
As if on cue, the cat strutted into the room and sat directly on Wolf’s boot.
Wolf stared down at him. “We’re not bonding.”
Muffin flicked his tail and settled in.
